


False Dichotomy

by Buggy



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-06
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2019-02-11 10:24:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12933279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buggy/pseuds/Buggy
Summary: Moira O'Deorain and Doctor Angela Ziegler discuss their ideological differences in a heated argumentative sort of way. This was definitely NOT spurred by me being salty about people reducing Moira's characterization to evil counterpart of Mercy or Mercy's lack of canonical characterization, nope.





	False Dichotomy

The medbay was pristine and smelled strongly of bleach. Even with pictures of Doctor Ziegler’s friends displayed proudly on a bulletin board and her personal effects gracing the computer desk, it somehow felt like the set of a medical drama. It was too close to what a layman might expect to see in a medical bay, almost as though it had been set up for appearances instead of functionality.

But then, Moira O’Deorain reasoned, she could be biased because it differed from her own laboratory set-up. Either way she dismissed the sentiment as irrelevant to the current situation. Respect for the doctor prevailed over this hiccup.

The respect mingled with a slight amusement at the lack of reciprocation from Angela Ziegler, who stood in the doorway with her eyes narrowed and her arms crossed. Moira’s nose wrinkled playfully as she examined the circular gold headpiece set next to the Valkyrie suit on the counter. 

“Not that I question the design of your organization’s engineers, Doctor Ziegler, but what exactly is the functionality of this piece?”

“It’s not polite to touch things that aren’t yours,” was the doctor’s stiff reply. “You're here to receive your uniform, not pick over mine.”

“I was making a cursory comparison.” The geneticist’s tone was unmoved despite her associate's clear disdain. “I have a similar head adornment, but the design is less…” She chuckled. “Decorative. Did you request that they give you a halo?”

The amusement in her voice served to rile the doctor further, as was evidenced by her tone of voice. “That is to monitor vitals when I venture into dangerous situations. It’s not decorative.”

“It can be both decorative and functional. Taken together with your suit’s wings, one might find this rather... symbolic.”

Angela huffed. Her heels clicked against the tile as she advanced on the counter. “You should do what you came to do and leave, O’Deorain,” she snapped. Moira pulled back so the doctor could snatch her suit away unhindered. The slightest crease formed between the geneticist's brows.

“I see you don't share my sense of humor.”

“Do you.” Angela scoffed. Moira was reminded of a small blonde terrier growling at a stranger. Well, there was nothing to be gained in stressing her further. Moira picked up the box containing her suit and strode to the door, intending to leave. And yet…

She paused with one hand resting on the doorframe. They might have to work with one another in the future even if her employment was a secret to most of Overwatch. Mightn’t it be better to get these trifles out of the way now?

“What, exactly, is the problem Doctor Ziegler?” she asked.

“There is no problem. Goodbye.”

She allowed herself an eye-roll. “Come now Angela, let's not mince words. You dislike me, which is your choice, but I would like to hear the reason from your own lips.”

Silence. Moira turned to see Angela fussing with something beneath the counter, presumably her uniform. “I am surprised you have to ask me, actually,” was the cool response. “I would have thought you were used to being a pariah.”

“And I thought you would be less judgmental, given the stakes this organization plays for.” Moira couldn't quite keep the bite out of her voice, and it did not go unnoticed. 

“What nonsense!” Angela shot up to glare over the counter, blue eyes burning in anger as she leaned toward her. “This is not some gambling game. People's lives hang in the balance, and I will not let someone as reckless, as… as callous as yourself endanger those I aim to protect!”

“Callous.” Moira tilted her head back slightly as she regarded Angela. Her anger was a cold, restrained force in contrast to the doctor’s flare of temper. “So you really are as short-sighted as the others.”

“If by short-sighted you mean that I recognize a dangerous person when I met them-”

“When you read what other people have to say about them, you mean,” Moira replied with a sharp smile. “This is the most we've talked since I was brought on by Reyes. We know very little about each other first-hand.”

“I know enough. I read your paper.”

Moira tilted her head to one side. Angela’s eyes bored into her own, but she did not look away. “And you didn’t approve.”

“Of course I didn’t,” the doctor replied sharply. “No reasonable scientifically-minded person approved. The implications raised by your claims, the possibility of what it might be used for if it were to fall into the wrong hands…! It is people like you who breed a fear of technology in those who know no better!”

Moira let the silence hang between them as she collected her thoughts. A cricket several rooms away was chirping, but otherwise the building lay still and quiet.

“You object to what I have accomplished because of its capabilities. Is this correct?”

“That’s one reason I object to _you,_ yes,” Angela retorted. “But more importantly, you take risks no one should be allowed to take- risks not only to your own personal safety but the safety of others. You are irresponsible with your research and with your methodology, and that is unacceptable.”

Moira’s smile returned, though there was less amusement beneath it now. “That illuminates things. Let us do a thought experiment, Angela.” The doctor opened her mouth to protest, but Moira raised a hand. “I will leave once I have had my say. You have had a chance to express your opinions, and it is only fair that I have a chance to express mine.”

Angela crossed her arms and muttered, “This is ridiculous. Fine, say your piece and leave.”

Moira took a step back into the room with the air of a professor about to begin a lecture. “Let us assume that you are about to perform surgery on a patient. This patient has a brain tumor that will be incredibly difficult to operate on. It is possible that during the process you could irreversibly damage or kill this patient regardless of how skilled you are with a scalpel. The technology you currently possess is, for the purposes of our story, inaccessible to you at the current time. What do you do?”

“What does this have to do with anything?”

“I listened to you Angela, now what do you do?”

Angela answered with the utmost reluctance. “...I perform the surgery, because if I don’t the patient will most likely die anyways.”

Moira nodded, pleased. “You take the risk.”

“There IS no risk besides what there was already.” Angela shook her head and turned away, disgusted. “The patient is in danger, and he will die regardless of what I do.”

“And people don’t die from inherited genetic diseases every day?”

Angela’s shoulders tensed, and she stood still. “That’s different. You’re affecting people on a much larger scale, and not all of them-”

“Yes, it IS a much larger scale. My research could be used to save hundreds of thousands of lives, but instead the scientific community at large would prefer to ignore my breakthroughs. It would be comparably unjust for you to be threatened with reckless endangerment for considering surgery on this theoretical patient.”

“It’s not comparable at all!” Angela turned on her again, fists clenched. “If someone were to take your technology and start some sort of eugenics program, the results would be nothing short of catastrophic!”

“And this someone couldn’t do the same with your nanobiology research, were they to reverse-engineer it?” One pale, long-fingered hand reached up to her own jaw thoughtfully. “I seem to remember it being applied to a gun constructed for one of the leaders of our esteemed organization. It seems that almost any discovery of value has the potential to be weaponized.”

Angela set her jaw stubbornly. “I fought against its construction for Captain Amari, thank you very much, and anyways you could argue against anything that way.”

“Exactly. You could.”

Angela blinked at Moira in dismay at this line of thought. “Well. At least I followed the proper process when developing my research. That is more than can be said for YOU.”

Moira’s smile became a sneer. “Yes. You were very good at allowing yourself to be fettered by bureaucracy and the opinions of your peers.”

“I followed good scientific procedures!”

“You followed popularly accepted guidelines meant to slow down the pursuit of knowledge because it scares people.” Moira drew herself up slightly. She was at least a head taller than Angela. “We scare people, Angela. Overwatch scares people because of the power we wield and the knowledge we seek to obtain.”

Angela's voice rose, and a faint flush entered her cheeks. “I have never supported the accumulation of power in this way, nor the application of force in the pursuit of peace! Commander Morrison knows this, I have not been quiet about my views! My pursuit of knowledge is applied in the hopes of helping others whose lives have been torn asunder by these global conflicts!”

“And you do it with Overwatch behind you because you know their system works.” Moira's voice had hardened, perhaps, but there was no noticeable change in volume. “You are funny, Angela. You denounce an organization's means then piggy-back on its operations for your own ends. You preach pacifism yet carry a gun onto the battlefield.”

“That's for self defense!”

“In short,” Moira continued, “you have your ideals, your dichotomy of right and wrong and the people who fall into those starkly separated categories, but you are willing to smudge those pristine lines with your actions because reality does not support your hypothesis. You are an intelligent person, Angela, but this separation of belief and practice is nothing short of academic laziness.”

Angela’s eyes went round in shock. She couldn't have looked more affronted if Moira had physically slapped her.

The geneticist continued in a calmer tone. “Those who seek the truth are the ones who will most effectively be able to influence the reality of any situation. The appearance of heroism has its uses in assuaging the fears of those who refuse to discipline their minds, but in the end Angela…” Her gaze drifted back to the counter currently hiding the doctor's Valkyrie suit. 

“In the end, your heroes can only accomplish so much. You, Morrison, and the rest can serve as Overwatch's face if you like, but people like myself are the ones who change things. You are the figurehead, perhaps, but Blackwatch… Blackwatch is the engine.”

Angela's shock had waned. Now her expression might have been carved from stone, though her voice shook slightly when she spoke.

“Take your uniform and leave.”

Moira shifted the box under her arm, a satisfied smile crossing her face as she turned her back on Angela.

“It is a pity. Your research really is marvelous, if only you would apply yourself.”

And she left, her white coat vanishing into the stark black shadows of the vacant hall.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey kids, I've been out for a while working on my book, but I am tentatively back in the game. *Jazz hands* This work may have a follow-up later on. In the meantime, fear not TF2 fans, I still love the game and actually have a crossover in the works that will let me revisit all those good fun mercenaries.


End file.
